Flowers and Heart-shaped Boxes
by Aurona X
Summary: "So, every other day, he came to the same little shop." (Coffee) "It was raining when he finally figured it out." (Rain) - Ichihime Oneshots of varying length and rating. This is where all of my one-shots under 1k will be tossed for your enjoyment, rather than letting them rot in my Fanfiction folder
1. Coffee

Prompt: _She makes the absolute worst coffee in town, but he keeps coming to her coffee shop every day to order an extra-large macchiato._

 **.**

The instant he took a sip from the deep brown liquid, he wanted nothing more than to spit it out and toss the brown cardboard cup over the edge of the nearest bridge. Preferably into a ravine.

The only thing, _the only thing_ , stopping him was the hopeful pair of eyes not-so-secretly watching him from behind a case of over-priced pastries.  
It would have been impossible to hide anywhere with hair like hers, and he knows that first hand. It still never stopped him from trying to play hide and seek as a child. So, on some level, he understands and continues to let her think he can't see her. When the truth is, he _always_ sees her.

To smother the heat rising in his cheeks at knowing that he too is being watched, he takes another sip. His cheeks at once pale as he swallows down another _painful_ mouthful of his drink. A chill runs up his spine, and he swears he can hear his internal clock tick faster as it settles in his stomach. All and all, it _looked_ like normal coffee. It smelt like normal coffee too. But the second it touches his taste buds…

 _Does she put mayonnaise in this shit?  
_  
He didn't even want to consider it. He had seen what she put on her bread during her breaks, and it was often the most grotesque, _should-be-blurred-out_ sort of concoctions you could imagine.  
Not that he was _stalking_ her or anything, he just began to try to come in when she was on her breaks for the stability of his own health.

Unfortunately, that didn't last.

As dense as he was, he could see the subtle fall on her shoulders every time he came in _right_ as she untied her apron. The first few times he had thought it relief on her part; maybe she knew how terrible she was at making Coffee? He soon came to find that was not the case.

It became clear that he was the _only_ customer that really came in for the coffee she served, rather than to gawk at her appearance. And it clicked. Despite her good-service, and obviously hardworking ethic, she was kept on as an employee (despite her clear inability to _actually make_ a decent cup of coffee) because of her _looks_. She wasn't at all stupid (although she could whip up a nonsensical story like nobody's business) and the few conversations he had managed with her had been downright enjoyable.

So, every other day, he came to the same little shop. With the same little auburn-haired beauty that had taken a piece of his heart with her tiny fist on a cold Tuesday morning, and handed him a cup of coffee. Why? He didn't have a damn clue, even after all these weeks. Maybe it was because she was nice, or because the few conversations he had with her were more engaging than any college class, or maybe it was because her laugh made him feel warm.

He takes another sip of his _terrible, awful_ coffee, and her beaming smile puts the sun to shame.

 _Ok, so maybe her smile is a big part of it._


	2. Rain

It was raining when he finally figured it out.

Fat, lazy storm clouds rolled slowly away over the distant horizon, bringing along with them the last remanence of the torrential downpour that had accosted Karakura city for the last two days.

They were on their way to the market, finally able to retrieve something to soothe her persistent craving for ice cream and pickles. _Wasabi_ flavored ice cream and pickles. He often wonders if her stomach and taste buds are made of iron to be able to handle such a strong combination of flavors.

Her tiny hand, held securely in his much larger one; swinging between them as she hummed the theme from her favorite comedy show. In his other hand, he held a large dark red umbrella aloft. Keeping it tilted just enough to ensure they were both covered from the on-and-off drizzle of rain.

He admits silently that it would be easier to hold it with his right hand, but he would rather sacrifice himself to a damp shoulder than forgo the feeling of her hand in his own. And there was _no way_ he would let her walk on the side closer to the street.

As they walked, every so often her hand would squeeze his with just the barest amount of pressure. It took him a moment or two to figure out it happened every time they passed a decently sized puddle on the sidewalk. And it was suddenly clear it was her physically resisting the urge to put her vibrant yellow rubber rain boots to use.

 _"They're perfect for puddles!"_ She'd said earlier. He should have guessed she was being serious.

If that alone didn't give her away, the tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows and the faint pout of her lips was a dead ringer. Suddenly he felt very, _very_ stupid.

Despite the trials faced in their past, she had done excellent work of keeping the piece of her personality that marveled with childlike wonder at the world. Although he would never openly admit it, that was one of the things that attracted him to her. Her gentle tenacity. Through all she had faced, she still managed to look up at the sky and spot the rainbow through the clouds. It was admirable, and at times he quietly envied her for it.

So, although he loathed doing so, he released her hand.

He wasn't sure if he should have been insulted or amused by how quickly she rushed away toward the puddles. The flimsy metal pole of the umbrella tapped against his shoulder as he shoved his newly freed hand into his pocket.

The second her lips curved into such a brilliant little smile, he found that maybe letting her hand go could be worth it.

 _Just this once._

Her rubber covered feet stomped down on a shallow puddle, sending water splashing in every direction, miraculously not dampening her coat in the slightest. The sound of joy that escaped her as she darted toward another puddle, twirling around with her arms outstretched as though to capture every little drop that fell from the sky. Her hair was already growing damp, and he made a mental note to sit her down in front of the heater when they got back to her apartment.

For not the first time, he marveled at his own thoughts. The familiarity and ease of which he now thought of returning to her apartment together stunned him. Even just four months ago he might have blushed like a moron at the idea of being alone with the young beauty, but now it was just so _easy_.

A year ago, if someone had told him Orihime Inoue would be _his girlfriend_ , his reaction would have been something hilariously humiliating to all parties involved. He probably would have punched them in his embarrassment, or even stammered out something equally incriminating and horrifying. Because back then (even now, if he is being honest) he was so sure she was light years out of his league.

After years of being repeatedly told just how _wonderful, amazing, and beautiful_ she was, and how _a punk like_ him _landing a girl like_ her _would be a miracle_ …

He had started to believe it. And although he had plenty of instances where her kindness toward him felt like something _more_ , he had pushed those moments aside as his own wishful thinking.

"Orihime." He called, and she turned on her heel to greet him with that brilliant smile of hers.

"Yes! Sorry, we should go, shouldn't we?" Her fingers laced together behind her back, her heels lifting up and down from the puddle she stood in as she rocked on her toes. A sheepish smile covered her lips. He crossed the distance between them, raising the umbrella back overhead to shield them from the rain.

Without question, their hands reached for each other, sliding into a comfortable and familiar hold.

And maybe it was the way she looked so tiny in her raincoat, the way her hair curled and frizzed in the rain even as it was weighed down by the water, or the way her eyes smiled at him with all the affection and adoration in the world. Because suddenly, he realized something.

Amidst the rain, and the bleak gray clouds, there was sunshine hidden in her smile, and on her skin.

He could _feel_ it. The familiar flicker of warmth in his chest, which had long since spread beyond that and spanned every corner of his very soul. Like liquid sun filling him up until he wanted to burst, even as he greedily wanted more.

There was no question about what it was. The realization wasn't so much a realization, as it was acceptance of what he'd already known.

 _Love._


End file.
